


The Many Deaths of Clark Kent

by Yusabi



Category: Smallville
Genre: Alternate Timelines, Dark, Established Relationship, Horror, Hurt/Comfort, Lex's Dream, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-27
Updated: 2017-01-12
Packaged: 2018-09-12 13:04:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9072865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yusabi/pseuds/Yusabi
Summary: The many ways in which Clark Kent has died at the hands of Lex Luthor.





	1. Machete

"You can run, Clark, but you can't hide. You can never hide, not from me." 

Clark hid, because all he could do was hide. The dream world was unforgiving, and without Alexander to buffer his defense, there was nowhere he could run from Lex. Not for long, never without him catching up eventually. 

He slipped behind another closed door, this time thrown into a memory of a younger Lex. It was one of the old ones, back from Smallville, before all of the events and turbulence had sent them separate ways. 

Lex was holding three fingers of whiskey, swirling his glass slowly, contemplative. A younger version of himself came through the doors, and Lex hardly looked surprised, drawing his face up to look at the younger Clark with a pinched, half-cocked smirk.

"And to what do I owe the pleasure so early on in the day, Clark?" Lex drawled.

"Lex, hey... I'm sorry about last night. I didn't mean to miss it, I was just... busy." 

Lex only lifted an eyebrow at his half-hearted excuse, nodding his head slowly and pressing his lips into a thin line. He took a small sip of his drink, considered, and then sighed.

"Of course, apology accepted. I can only guess what mysterious event could have pulled you away from a Kill Bill marathon." He reached over to grab the box-set of dvd's and lifted it up to show him the unopened case before setting it back down on his desk. 

Clark shifted uncomfortably and looked away guiltily, looking a bit like a beaten puppy before taking a few tentative steps forward. "I know, I'm sorry. I just got caught up--"

"I don't suppose it would kill you to call," Lex replied, a thick layer of annoyance coloring his tone. "It feels like you've been avoiding me, Clark."

"No, I'm... I'm not avoiding you. It's just between Lana and Chloe and Pete... look, Lex, I'm sorry. I don't know what else to say."

Lex shrugged and got up, taking slow, careful steps forward before he offered another smile. It wasn't genuine, but his younger counterpart didn't seem to notice, looking up at him with puppy-dog eyes full of hope. The older man set a his free hand on Clark's shoulder and leaned in slightly, his tone light. "It's just a movie, Clark. We can watch it some other time. Now, don't you have crops to sow?"

"I decided it was time to take a break," he replied, grinning. "I was actually hoping we could have our marathon now. I even brought clothes for an overnight."

"I suppose if Clark Kent can take a break from milking cows, I can set aside some of my evening."

Clark looked relieved, and grateful. He stood a little taller and those green eyes watched Lex with the reverence and respect of a younger sibling, always a little happier under Lex's good graces. "Wow, thanks, great! I'll, uh, I guess I'll go get my stuff out of the hallway, then. I brought lots of coffee and popcorn."

The edges of the memory started to blur, and the chatter from their younger selves slowly became less distinguishable before he felt the chill that began to creep into the room. Lex had found him.

"You know, I actually used to trust you back then. All of your excuses, all of your lies, and I, being the good samaritan. Accepting them. Pretending I didn't notice." There was a low chuckle from where he'd initially come, and he turned to face Lex. "Those were the good days, weren't they?"

Clark took a step back, Lex took a step forward. 

"Lex, I never wanted to hurt you! You were my friend! I'm sorry I lied, but--"

"But what, Clark? What was so secretive that you couldn't tell me? I tried for so long to be the best friend you deserved. I would've done anything to protect you if you had just told me the truth."

"Lex--"

The man snarled at him, his head cocking to the side. "We could've still been friends. Funny, how blind trust will almost always come back to haunt you."

He charged, and Clark turned on his heel to run. He was human here, in Lex's mind. Lex had all the power, and one could suppose that if he really wanted, he could charge forward, take the other's neck, and snap it like a twig if he really wanted to. In fact, once he had. 

It had been a long time, however, since Lex let the chase end so soon. Somewhere down the line, it had turned into a game of cat and mouse instead, for entertainment or out of vindiction, it didn't really matter much anymore.

It felt like he'd been here weeks now, running through different doors. Not every memory was bad. Some of them were happy and filled with fearless abandon. Their first baseball game together, the times they'd grab coffee together at the Talon, their late night chess matches in the Kent barn, Lex's insistence that he experience the cinematic genius of Quentin Tarantino. There were so, so many good memories together. The ones that made it obvious all of the ways in which they'd been so great together as friends.

But there were also bad memories here. Memories of the child abuse he went through, of Lex's mother smothering his baby brother in his crib, his breakdown as a child, and the anger and depression that had driven him to waste away his teenage years in seedy clubs and backalley transactions and strange bedrooms. Always, Lex found him, but not until Clark had seen too much. Perhaps on purpose.

He reached the end of the hallway, one of the many endless, tricky hallways with no doors to run to. The hallway pinched in on both sides as Lex walked down it, calm and furious.

"One of these days you're going to stop running from me and accept that you're here, with me, forever. I can't wait for that day, Clark, because I have so many plans for you."

The shackles that rose from the floor and spawned out of the walls clasped themselves to Clark's wrists, and he struggled for a few moments before resigning to wait for the inevitable. Lex always gave him an out, always gave him a path to get away, and always so that they could resume their game once more.

"I will fight you, Lex. I will always try my hardest to fight you! I will never give in!"

Lex smiled, and for a brief moment Clark thought he saw a hint of pride, a small bit of affection, but it was quickly gone. Replaced with the chill of apathy, cold and unfeigned to any sense of morality. He held out his hand and the Machete materialized in his hand. He turned it over once, twice, before reeling back his arm. 

Clark's head came off with a clean sweep, his head rolling to the floor, eyes bugged out and pale. His body fell slack against the chains, and Lex wiped the blood off on the dead man's shirt before discarding it to the ground.

"I sincerely hope that one day you deign it a priority to change your mind." He muttered and watched as the body disintegrated to ash before snapping his fingers to find himself in a new, clean white suit. 

He didn't look back at what he'd done, and he never had. He had killed Clark before. He would kill Clark again, always in a different way, always a little bit more creative, always a bit bloody. There was always that bit of him, Alexander, who protested. Who wanted to see Clark in a hopeful light; his best friend, his confidant. 

In the end, he only brushed it aside, and set off to look for him again. Lex could never let him stay dead here long. Not where his mind craved the balance of an antithesis. 

He would find Clark, and end him again. He always did.


	2. Kryptonite Bullets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clark finds out the hard way that Lex has been keeping special bullets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last one was dark, I needed to write something a little nicer before I dig back down into writing the bad stuff. A little short, but I'm still trying to find my niche writing these two in particular.

 

  
"I'm sorry, Clark."

The bullet had ripped through his chest, and embedded itself somewhere close to Clark's heart. He didn't have any time to go against it or cry out. His eyes fell shut, and the world was a spiral of darkness as a figure to the left of him dropped to the ground, as well.

Lex had rushed up to him, and Clark could hear him pleading, pressing some cloth up against his chest. Lex was screaming for his security, and the sound of heavy footfall surrounded him. There was movement all around and a sense of urgency, but he felt his grip of control over his body falter and his muscles went slack. Sound faded away, along with everything else.

 

"Check his vitals."

"He's improving, but he's still injured. He may not wake up for a while--"

"The only reason he shouldn't be awake right now is because you're not doing enough to treat him! Check his vitals, rerun the tests, and if he still hasn't woken up by then, check them _again_."

"Y-Yessir."

Lex sat down next to Clark and ran a hand over his face, squeezing his temples with a gentle sigh. Clark hadn't been meant to take that bullet. He was a man who often had prided himself for his calculations, his ability for foresight so he could move around unwanted mistakes. He hadn't seen this coming.

He had been fighting against one of the metahumans that had apparently had it out for Luthor blood. He could blame it on being at the wrong place at the wrong time, because the injuries had been meant for Lionel. Still, with one Luthor gone from Smallville and another readily available, it seemed that his attacker really hadn't been very picky. Someday he really was going to have to do something about that.

He had a few bad scrapes and bruises to prove himself on top of a broken arm, but he couldn't complain to the trade-off as he looked down at Clark. Three bullets to the chest, and the farmboy had still managed to save his life. No amount of specialists could really flush out all of the shards from the Kryptonite bullets. He'd just have to wait.

It had been five days, and he hadn't had more than three continuous hours of any sort of rest since. The makeshift bed he had made out of the chair in his lounge wasn't exactly great for sleeping on, but since then he'd all but set up a temporary emergency room in his home for a downed alien. He'd mused to himself several times to simply invest in a full-time hospital staff at his home, if he wasn't so sure Clark would protest.

He managed to fall asleep again for about forty-five minutes before he was being woken up again, eyes blood-shot, crusted and bleary.

"Mr. Luthor? We reran the tests. There is still a fragment of the bullet close to his heart that may explain his comatose state. If you'd give us permission to move him and operate, we may be able to extract it."

Lex looked up at the man, still blinking to process the sleep deprivation from his eyes before he sat up slightly. "Operate here, I want it set up as soon as possible."

The doctor began to protest, which was realistically understandable. Under normal working conditions, this place was not in any way sterile enough to have open surgery nor did they currently possess the tools, but his options were weighted. He wasn't sure how exactly the meteor rock affected his physiology. Whether or not it made Clark human, or perhaps even weaker than that. He knew that it caused him pain. Small doses affected Clark differently than large ones. He was aware that a large enough amount had the potential to kill and he didn't exactly make a hobby of playing dangerous experiments on his lover. All he could be sure of was no hospitals, and moving him was not an option.

Lex held up his hand, lacking for patience. His expression remained cool, even if his tone gritted on the edge. "Your next words will be to tell me how long it will take to set up, Doctor."

The man slowly nodded, looking uncomfortable. "We'll be ready within the hour."

  
Lex was asleep again when Clark woke up, laid back in his chair with his tie halfway off and the first three buttons undone, chest rising slowly. The movent of the sheets were what ended up waking him, his fingers twitching and his body groaning in protest as he forced it up. He'd had dark circles under his eyes before, although now they were just the slightest bit more pronounced. It was a small price to give, after orchestrating and funneling a few hundred thousand dollars into the lengthy and risky surgery.

"Clark," he said, his voice groggy and cracked with tiredness as he shifted.

"... Lex?" Clark looked him over before looking down at himself, not a mark on his chest. "What am I doing here in the... foyer? What happened?"

Lex chuckled in response, although Clark noted Lex didn't seem very amused. He looked stressed. "You were shot. With my gun. Do you remember?"

Clark only looked confused, his eyebrows drawing together as his memory tried to fill in the blanks. He moved to stand as he did, but promptly sat back down with the realization he was naked. He looked around at the physicians that were lurking in the corners of the room, picking up various instruments and packing up the medical paraphernalia scattered around.

"No," Clark said slowly, chewing over the words as he said them. A faint look of distrust crossed over his face, and Lex caught it silently. "No, Lex, I don't. Not much, anyways. You _shot_ me?"

"No, I didn't. It was my gun, but I didn't shoot you, Clark."

"Then I don't understand, how, how did I--"

"Kryptonite bullets," Lex replied.

Clark's expression twisted into one of betrayal, and Lex sat in the uncomfortable silence trying to pick through his next words carefully. He'd versed it over with himself in his head several times over, but it was a bit different now that the conversation was actually happening. He could lie, tell him that the bullets had been brought by the assailant that had gone after him, but he'd have quite a tale to spin if he did.

Clark also seemed to have a sixth sense for every time he tried to lie. It wasn't worth the eventual blowout when he did find out.

He'd commissioned those bullets with a very specific purpose, but never to cause any permanent damage to harm Clark. Especially given that he hadn't previously even been sure that it would even work when he'd first had them constructed.

He had known the big secret for a few months now, since their relationship had gone official, and he couldn't say he had a terribly convincing reason as to why he'd chosen to keep them around after the fact. In his desk drawer. In several, actually. They were more of a safety precaution, in his mind, for the times that Clark seemed to mysteriously go dark-side from time to time.

"Clark," he tried, his tone soft, but Clark wasn't having it. He leapt out of the bed without warning, apparently choosing to now forsake his nudity briefly. He looked over the set up of the room, wrapping the sheet from the makeshift hospital bed over his lower half.

"I can't believe you would do that, Lex. Why would you betray me like that? Those bullets could have _killed_ me."

Lex bit back a snappy retort and forced himself to stay seated, sure that if Clark really decided to zoom away, he wouldn't be able to stop him, regardless. "I know. I'm sorry. Technically, they did."

That made Clark pause. "They did?"

"For a few minutes. I took out most of the Kryptonite with my fingers and a knife before I called for help," Lex admitted, choosing then to stand up and walk over. He gave a little huff as he did, determined not to show exactly how much pain he was in, himself. Clark's eyes glazed over his body anyways, stopping at the sling holding his arm.

Even if temporarily, Clark seemed to ease. His expression turned to one of worry, and he let Lex approach. His fingers reached over to brush over the sling gently, his eyes a little wider and his lips parted slightly. Lex let him, grimacing as he set his lips into a thin line.

"I'm fine, Clark," he murmured dismissively.

The farmboy raised his eyes to meet him briefly and dropped his hand to his side. He seemed to be deliberating something, turning over the events in his mind. Eventually, a weak smile settled over his face and they reached a temporary truce. It was a 'we're talking about this later' look, but that was enough. Clark was always a bit more reasonable when food was around. They'd talk over dinner.

"You look like hell. It looks like someone ran you through a meat grinder." He offered his shoulder for Lex to lean on, and he took it gratefully, the two of them slowly but steadily doing their best to make it up to their bedroom.

"Well, it feels that way," Lex replied as he strained to keep his voice from wavering. "I'm hardly concerned. You were my priority at the time."

As they made it up to the bedroom, Clark took a quick detour to pull them into the bathroom, Lex raising an eyebrow. Clark smirked and lifted an eyebrow lightheartedly in response.

"We both smell, no offense. When was the last time you took a shower?"

"Nearly a week ago. It hadn't been on the top of my list of concerns at the time, Clark."

Clark helped him unfasten his tie the rest of the way and pull off his shirt before moving down to pull down Lex's pants. Normally, at this point Lex would have been purring in his ear and they would've made a mess that truly warranted a shower. The movements were clearly being made in the most non-sexual way possible, though, which was for the best.

Lex watched him suck in a breath and hold it as he surveyed the canvas of bruises, quite obviously holding back a barrage of questions that would have undoubtably ruined their silent temporary truce. Clark was able to remain faithfully silent, although the tension in his shoulders was noticeable. He helped Lex into the shower and followed in after him. Lex chose to ignore the terse change in atmosphere in favor of scrubbing off a week's worth of dirt and body odor.

They spent most of their time up to dinner rather silent after that. Clark helped him dress comfortably before dressing himself, and Lex quietly cursed the fact that he felt a little helpless without his other arm. He ended up retreating to his office to make some calls and said nothing when Clark eventually found his way to him, setting up the pool table only to take shots aimlessly rather than properly play the game.

Lex talking on the phone almost always escalated to tense shouting matches and ultimatums, but Clark was used to that by now. He didn't know much about business, but Lex seemed to get things done, so he had stopped commenting on it for the most part.

They chose to eat dinner in front of the flatscreen in the media room, eventually just giving into Clark's suggestions that they order a few pizzas and call it a day. Lex still called for a salad from the kitchen so he wouldn't have to feel quite as bad as he watched Clark dip into the greasy wonderland of pizza.

Lex went to get a glass of scotch, and poured himself a few extra fingers, deciding that on this particular occasion he would likely benefit from a light buzz.

"Should you really be drinking that stuff right now with all of your injuries?"

Lex tipped back his glass and took a long swallow of the stuff defiantly, refilling his glass when it was gone. He shrugged.

"Should you really eat three whole pizzas?" He countered.

"After getting shot three times with Kryptonite, I could probably eat a whole place out of business," Clark joked, but his expression grew a bit more serious.

Truce broken.

"Clark--" Lex set down his glass and moved himself carefully to face him on the couch, feeling a bit out of his depth. He couldn't remember a time the other hadn't managed to shake him a little, this time no different.

Clark cut him off, clasping his hands together. "Okay, Lex, I'm willing to accept that you had Kryptonite bullets, because, well... we had a rough patch before we got together, and... you were upfront with me about them when we got together. I just thought..."

"You thought I told you about them because I'd gotten rid of them."

"Yeah."

Lex picked his scotch up again, deciding he wasn't finished with it after all. "I won't apologize for setting up a manner of self-defense for myself, should I ever need to have it, Clark."

"Because you think I'd hurt you? Lex, I've never done anything to warrant that kind of distrust."

He felt a shot of pain in his chest at the look on Clark's face, but his sentiment didn't waver, and that only seemed to upset Clark more. "No, you haven't."

A pair of green discs searched his, and he looked torn between anger, confusion, and sadness wrapped up in wide eyes and a pout. "Then I don't understand. Why would you have the one thing that could kill me loaded into a gun and ready for use? What exactly did I do to deserve that?"

"Red Kryptonite," Lex replied immediately in response, which seemed to catch Clark off-guard.

"What?"

"Red Kryptonite. Magic. Mind control. I trust you not to ever harm me, but I don't trust you under any influences, and even under normal circumstances we're not on a level playing field. What happens if someone comes at me through you?" Lex paused to nurse his drink, but continued before Clark could get in a word. "Clark, those bullets aren't there to harm you. They're there to _incapacitate_ you, should you ever be out of control of yourself."

Clark couldn't seem to find a counterargument quickly, so he interjected one last statement calmly and assuredly. "Before you decide to get self-righteous, I want you to honestly tell me that if something were to happen to you, you wouldn't want me to have a way to defend myself."

The brunette took it into consideration, and he took it as an agreement that he'd made a valid point when five minutes passed and a look of realization dawned over his face. "Okay. Actually, that's... reasonable."

"It is," Lex agreed. "Besides, it wouldn't be my first plan of action in most cases."

That managed to garner a chuckle from Clark, who looked a bit relieved by the truthful confesssion.

"Oh yeah? What are those plans, exactly?"

Lex smirked and leaned in to extract a slow, lingering kiss from him before returning to his previous position. "Seduction. With Red Kryptonite, I can safely assume that the most that would lead to is a few hours of very sweaty, very kinky sex."

"You're probably right," Clark agreed, his cheeks heating and a shy grin appearing on his lips as he licked them at the thought. "What about magic or mind control?"

"I've acquired a few specialists. I can confidently say I've got a long list of contigencies to work with, should that ever be necessary. The last thing I want to do, Clark, is shoot you. That's the truth."

Lex watched him for his reaction, and sighed contentedly against Clark when he pulled him in for another kiss. Their lips melded over each other for a few moments, and a steady hand reached around to pull him closer. He almost forgot his injuries for a moment, and his body seemed willing to work around the restrictions, however Clark pulled away. He looked happy, his cheeks flushed and hair slightly ruffled.

Lex offered him a crooked grin and met his eyes. "Does that mean I'm forgiven?"

"Very forgiven," Clark replied warmly, nodding.


	3. Sacrifice

  
Clark watches as Lex presses the barrel of the gun to her temple. Her eyes flicked to his with dread, frozen with anticipation.

He is fast, but he is not that fast. Clark can catch a bullet from rather short distances, but the only space between Chloe and biting a bullet is the distance between her skull and the barrel chamber. He is not fast enough.

She twists carefully to test Lex's resolve, but he only increases his grip around her shoulder hard enough to cause her to cry out. She curses and doesn't try again.

Instead, he is surprised as Lex tells him to sit, offers him a drink. Clark doesn't drink, he refuses, but he insists. His fingers touch the glass, and he holds it with uncertainty, looking over at Lex with true fear.

Clark has always been insipidly hopeful. After years of lucky breaks and being entreated to many uncanny rescues from his teammates, it is truly mortifying to assess the situation and find no clear exit to follow. There is no power he could use to reach Chloe in time, and no words left to sway the man that had once been his friend. They have faced each other before as not only close friends, but as vicious enemies, and over time he has realized that the part of Clark that appeals to Lex has slowly stripped away.

He was also once sure of the fact that they would continue as adversaries forever. After all, it has always been Lex and Clark, Clark and Lex. Locked forever into a negative, but companionable struggle for power and dominance.

There have been times over the years where Clark has beat back against Lex, and yet they have welcomed each other into their homes. A dead Clark, after all, has never been in his best interests before. Lex knows that no one will ever test his resolve or challenge his ideals in the way that Clark has. In many ways, their struggle has made Lex stronger over time. He credits the alien with allowing him to become the sure, conscient man he is today.

He pours his own glass and clinks it with Clark's, downing it expertly. In any other person, he would've taken the advantage to sweep in and save Chloe, but he knows his enemy better than that. Lex is never so easily distracted or duped.

That is why Clark is here today, uniformed in red and blue, silent. Lex does not require him to talk, after all, he is more than capable of filling the silence on his own, if he chooses.

He reaches into his pocket and sets down a vial of liquid, and suddenly, Clark understands. It grows brightly with proximity, and Clark's jaw sets as he fights the fear that urges him to run. He understands the game, and out of the three, only two will walk out of this office.

If Lex has his way, it will be him and Clark that leave together. After all, it is still true that he has no desire to see him go. It would also give him satisfaction to truly, completely, render him into isolation. He has forced Lana into abandoning Clark, and Oliver Queen disappeared mysteriously only weeks previously. His mother is entirely removed to another state on the the other side of the continent, and his father is gone.

To have Chloe gone would leave Clark in the state he has always wanted. He desires nothing more than his complete commitment to their state of war. To have every emotion he focuses on be directed on him, and him alone.

The choice is clear, although no words are said: drink the liquid, and be poisoned to death, or Chloe will take his place as tribute. Of course, as if it were really a choice. He is encompassed in pesky morality, to the point that it has always overriden his desire to survive. Clark's own complex for self-sacrifice has always been as irritating as it was admirable, as it has never been a trait Lex has been able to truly acquire.

This self-sacrifice has always been a trait of those lucky to stay within Clark's radar, of course. He can tell by the way that Clark and Chloe talk silently with their eyes, that they are both fighting to take the heat. They share the same lack of self-preservation, and it is only a minute shake of Clark's head that forces the woman to hang her head.

"I'll do it, just let Chloe go. Just leave her alone, Lex."

"Of course, Clark. You have my word."

It is almost sweet and comforting how Clark feels a hand gently massaging his shoulder as he pours the liquid Kryptonite into his glass. It dissolves easily, and if not for the strange tint of color, Clark would have never guessed it was veritibly poisoned.

His hands shook now, as he held it, quivering and trembling. The liquid sloshes in the glass, and his fingertips ache hollowly in protest. Lex is patient. He makes no move to rush him or goad him, standing by silently.

When he downs it, it burns like fire down his throat. He can feel it searing down his esophagus, and ripping holes into his stomach. He can feel it leaking inside of him, every organ of his engorged and expressing protest in the form of the most exquisite pain Lex will ever get to witness.

Chloe fights back now, and Lex lets her, true to his word. The damage is now far beyond reversal, so he does not worry that she will somehow save him. He lets her try to attack, and has her quickly and efficiently escorted from the building. This process, the breaking of the old to the new, must be done alone.

Only great men will shift their paradigm of their own volition, and he is no doubt a great man. He leans down to stroke Clark's hair, deciding that while this confrontation was the product of years of contrition, he will let Clark leave as a friend. He shushes the man as he convulses, feeling a twinge of long-forgotten pity.

Once upon a time, he had had the potential for sacrifice, the potential to protect and heal. It is decidedly not a crime to guide his only true companion through this life to the other side.

Perhaps things could have ended differently. He had to believe at one point, there had been forks in the road with the potential to lead him down different paths. He could see the potential futures still, where they could have been partners, lovers, friends, trustees. Perhaps he did know sacrifice.

In the many ways Clark had shaped him, Lex had done the same. He could justify his actions with the idea that without him, Superman would have never been given the chance to change the world. Yes, it is because of him that he will die a hero. He decides he has done the other a favor.

Stoic and unchanged, Clark's legacy will now never have the chance to be tempered. He will be the martyr. He will be the face of greatness. He will be unchanged, and Lex decides that he will happily promote this image, because even in death... he is the side of the coin that reminds him where he stands. His memories will remind him of the things he will not be. It will also remind him of the things he will, that Clark never could.

He presses a kiss to the man's forehead long after the last breath is drawn.

It is perhaps not love, not partnership, but it is entirely something of its own.

He knows he will follow Clark soon, and if it is everything he hopes, their battles will rage far into the afterlife and beyond.

It has, after all, always been this way. Lex and Clark, Clark and Lex.

He would happily do it all over again.


End file.
